


I can almost feel you

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 17:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18145373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: Sq song prompt: Dreams Pt II feat Sara Skinner by Lost Sky. Asked by emmetkaysworld via tumblrThere were moments in where she thought how she could rewrite what had happened. Stupid little ideations that never got too far as Emma couldn’t even begin to fathom the words she would have said.





	I can almost feel you

**Author's Note:**

> Set in: s7

She could feel her blood pumping on her ears, swallowing every other noise as she kept her eyes in the ceiling above her, unable to fall asleep, to concentrate on the steady breathing of the body next to her, to the tiredness she felt on every muscle: gnawing at her tendons. She could feel her throat closing as she tried to swallow; the roughness of her tongue on her mouth, how the muscles of her jaw hurt due to how strongly she kept it closed, trying to erase an eternal sob, one that never seemed ready to leave, one that always felt a second away to break free through the carefully wraps she kept it under.

She could feel her magic; bubbling just beneath her lungs, cracking through her body in waves that kept her tied, immobile, as guilt-ridden thoughts echoed on her brain, as words got rewritten over and over inside her mind, rivers of ink writing the many times she had been wrong, the many times she hadn’t been the woman she had promised herself she would be. Blonde locks plastered against her neck, Emma kept herself a moment away from starting to cry, hating how feeble, how fragile, how brittle, that last defense truly felt. Defense she didn’t even feel she deserved it. Like every other thought and moment in where her lungs stopped working, her sight blurring once more and coloring the air around them in the hues of autumnal leaves and trees that only existed back in a realm she wasn’t even sure how to go back to.

And she had considered it; going back on her steps, the feverish mirage of being able to run and reach it a second, a minute, an hour, after she had stepped away from there. It was an unstoppable thought that had painfully counted every second she hadn’t turned and run. She could still feel it, now as she laid in bed, the maddening ticking noise her mind seemed able to conjure as Henry’s image looked at her, the eyes ones she was still able to recognize even if the face that stared at her was different, very different, than the one she still could picture it if she savored the name of the boy that had knocked on her door once. The boy that was her family. The boy that was her son. She could feel her heart raging, clawing its way up from her chest to her throat, grappling her vocal chords, as she could picture Regina next to him, one last nod passing through them as Emma’s back tingled, the pressure of a hand on her elbow enough for her to turn away and cross.

Enough for her to leave, to abandon them.

Enough for her to feign, to convince herself, that what she was doing was right.

The sheets felt rough beneath her fingertips and she craned her neck upwards; pressing the top of her bed against the pillow, the pressure strange to her body as she could feel her throat beginning to spasm.

There had been moments ever since she had crossed back, Hook in tow, that she had seen their shadows through the corner of her eyes, always a glance away, always a moment too slow for her to truly realize it. Soul heavy, she soon learnt that, like muscle memory, her brain always filled the empty spaces, the missed moments, the next logical interaction she would have had with them. And while she had grown accustomed to Henry’s silence Regina’s was the hardest. The one that made her want to simply wonder aloud why.

Why hadn’t she said those things she had felt that wouldn’t ever be reciprocated back when there had been only them: Robin’s apartment, Lily’s, New York, the town line. Why hadn’t she taken those steps forward every time Regina had tried to come closer to her, a question, a very simple one, shinning on her eyes.

Why hadn’t she…

She forced her mind to stop, the questions far too many, far too sharp, for her to truly fill her lungs and breathe and so she kept herself unmoving in the middle of the badly lighted room, tiredness assaulting her senses, as she flexed her fingers reflexively against the sheets.

There were moments in where she thought how she could rewrite what had happened. Stupid little ideations that never got too far as Emma couldn’t even begin to fathom the words she would have said. There were moments in where she thought not on that moment but many others prior. The ones she had felt like saying something but had thought that a nod, a smile, a root beer, would fill those silences for her. Now her mind was filled with blank, grey spaces that buzzed and bristled and Emma found herself pressing her lips together as the word “love” pushed itself against them, against the alveolar ridge, just behind her teeth, against the wounds those very same teeth had carved in the inner side of her cheek.

And there were moments in where she felt a coward for even thinking that, for letting her mind wander and fill that greyness with what she would have said. There were moments, usually following the ones in where she let her mind wander, in where she could only make promise after promise, deal after deal, to a woman that wasn’t there anymore. To a woman whose mansion was now empty but still spotless as Emma still found time to go back to it, again and again, perfume and echoing of high-heeled feet gone but not forgotten.

But Regina was somewhere, her mind always went back to that, whispering the thought to each scathing realization that she hadn’t been brave enough.  Somewhere, somewhere she needed to trust, to belief, that she would find a way to communicate from.

Even if Emma didn’t feel like she deserved such a thing. Even if Emma felt like she herself needed to run away.

But if she did that… then she would truly be lost.

Her mind was beginning to scatter and break into pieces that didn’t break her skin and chest, pulverizing her very own self with each inhalation. She let herself fall into numbing sleep. Sleep in where Regina hadn’t nodded, in where Emma had walked away from Hook, in where she had hugged the brunette when Pan’s curse had reached them, in where she had stabbed the darkness, saving Regina, but had been able to reign over its power, in where she had turned right whenever she, in reality, had turned left.

In where Regina was still at her side.


End file.
